


routine

by dinopire



Category: Naruto
Genre: Fluff, Hair Brushing, Intimacy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9632162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinopire/pseuds/dinopire
Summary: hashirama brushing madara's hair, flirting the entire time. like if you agree.





	

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this a while ago but just finished it and posted it without editing. enjoy.

Hashirama watched Madara let out a hiss of annoyance as his hand got caught in yet another tangle in his hair. He wasn’t trying to do anything spectacular, only attempting to redress, but his long hair seemed intent on getting in the way.

“Madara.” Hashirama tried to grab his attention, being stuck with staring at Madara’s back instead of his eyes.

“What is it?” Madara’s answer was short and clipped, a sure sign of his brewing annoyance.

“Do you – brush your hair?” He halted in the middle of the sentence, realising there was no way to phrase it without seeming offensive. Madara certainly took it the wrong way judging by the way his eyes glinted red as he turned to glare at Hashirama.

“What are you implying?” His tone was like ice, expression rigid as if he was trying to make his best to make Hashirama spontaneously burst into flames.

“You have a lot of tangles, that’s all.” Hashirama smiled in the face of danger. He was as intimidated as he would be by a tiny kitten. Madara realised this and clenched his teeth in response.

“I have better things to do.” Madara answered shortly, finishing tugging on his clothing.

“Like train?” Hashirama’s tone was coy, “Or perhaps spend time with me?” His fingers reached forward, trailing down the smooth length of Madara’s forearm. Hashirama was greeted with a warning glance but noticed that Madara did not move away.

“You wish, insatiable bastard.” Madara stood to leave after spitting his usual poison at Hashirama.

“Wait – let me brush your hair?” Hashirama smiled, raising his eyebrows as he waited for an answer. Madara recognised it as the softer, more genuine smile that he reserved for Madara. Instead of the less authentic grin he gave to villagers who sang his praises.

That was probably one of the things that weakened his resolve the most, alongside the fact he would enjoy getting to sit down for another ten minutes or so before beginning his routine.

“Fine.” He accepted, sitting cross legged on the floor. “Get on with it.”

Hashirama scrambled to grab his comb, the room they were in having been his, after all.

“This may take many years.” He began dramatically, recognising the trust it took for Madara to allow Hashirama behind him but not mentioning it. Madara snorted, reaching back to push him over. Hashirama, of course, deftly dodged the hand.

“Shut up.” The bite was gone from Madara’s tone.

“Why, I always see the women gossiping as they brush each other’s hair.”

“I’m not a woman.” Madara grunted.

“Oh, I _know_.” Hashirama knew this, quite intimately in fact. He sensed Madara was reaching the end of his temper with that comment so pressed his lips shut, beginning to brush through Madara’s hair. It was incredibly long, and incredibly tangled. It was still damp from Madara’s earlier bath which helped a lot.

The silence of the morning was peaceful as Hashirama combed through the Uchiha’s hair, slowly but surely working out the knots. He could tell that Madara’s shoulders grew less tense at one point and his body leaned backwards in Hashirama’s direction.

It was a nice moment.

Hashirama grew bolder as Madara’s hair grew close to completely tangle free, letting his hand linger on Madara’s shoulders, ducking his head down so he could brush the tip of his nose against Madara’s earlobe.

“Can you think about something other than sex for one minute?” Madara turned to frown at him but the effect was ruined by his heavy-lidded eyes, similar to a cat who was close to taking a nap.

“I can think about you.” Hashirama answered cheekily, offering a roguish grin.

“Shithead.” Madara rolled his eyes, turning back around, his hair swinging and hitting Hashirama in the face. Not that he minded. It was incredibly soft when groomed properly after all.

There was a beat of silence, save their breathing.

“Hm, I’m surprised you haven’t started purring yet.” Hashirama gently scraped his nails across Madara’s scalp, setting the comb down onto the floor.

“I’m not a cat, Hashirama.” Madara sounded weary, moving away from the Senju.

Hashirama laughed, leaning back on his hands.

“Oh but that one time – do you remember that noise you made-“

“I’m leaving.” The words were snarled by Madara, and Hashirama found himself shoved backwards, landing on his back. It didn’t bother him, his boisterous laughter continuing to echo even as the door slammed shut behind Madara.


End file.
